Men of Mayhem
by Pass Crow
Summary: It weighs on you.  Whatever it is.  It's dragging you down, brother.  You're under so far you can't see the surface. Tig/Chibs slash  I don't own them, Kurt Sutter and FX do.  Please don't sue me.


He stared at his eyes in the mirror, letting the iced and cold blue widen in the seconds before he slammed his head forward. He closed his eyes at the moment of impact, preferring to feel the gush of blood the broken reflection cast over him. Preferring to feel anything but the hollow and soundless shriek of his withered soul. His fingers tightened on the sink and he shoved himself back, blinking against the thick red blood that shunted down from the gash in his forehead. All his jokes were gone, his whipped tongue still and thick, grated against his clenched teeth as he pieced his tear filled eyes against the jagged and falling remains of his reflection.

"Fuck." The dropped word was guttural and half sobbed, the taste of pennies and tears skrimming against his lips to paint his tongue. "Fuck." Blinking into his reflection he hardened his expression, tightening his jaw and widening his eyes against the moisture that continued to pool against the bruised looking dips that topped his cheekbones. Still ignoring the rill of blood he scrubbed the balls of his thumbs into his eyes, harshly drying his pale skin. "No big thing."

His teeth clicked hard as he bit out the words, toning his voice ambivalent and slightly menacing through a sheer act of will. "Fucking Opie's fault, putting the bitch in the truck when he knew shit like this could happen." Turning away from the mirror he picked up the bottle of Jack that rested on the lip of the tub. "Fucking stupid bitch shoulda been home with the kids anyway." He sucked the liquor back, letting the heat spread through his chilled body. The clamp of his jaw quivered and he swallowed again.

"Tig?" Chibs stalked through the small apartment, his boots ringing against the floors of the mostly empty space. "Tig, where the fuck are you?" He moved quickly around the stacked boxes, hardly giving them a glance. Dust was thick on the cardboard and he absently wiped a finger through it as he passed. "Alex, are you here man?" His accent rolled through the barely used rooms.

"Go 'way." Filip rolled his eyes at the slurred and gutted voice, kicking against the closed bedroom door. The chintzy wood knocked into something before opening halfway and he caught the rebound with one hand, shoving it harder. "I told you to get the fuck out."

"We both know I'm not doin' that." Chibs replied, pushing the door harder to leather so that he could press through the gap. Tig was splayed on the floor, his shoulders rammed up against the door, empty bottle of Jack dangling from one hand. "What the fuck happened Tigger?"

"Nothing." Groaning Tig canted his body to one side to avoid the way the sharp edge of the half opened door drilled into his back. "Why the fuck are you here?"

"You're not at the dorms, I know you're here." Filip answered as he pushed halfway into the room. He leaned around the door, one hand still holding against it, his fingers whitened as he held Tig's weight. His eyes widened at the blood that streaked down from the other man's forehead. "Mary, Mother of Christ, what happened to you?"

"Had an accident." Tig's laconic voice guttered sharply and he let the empty liquor bottle fall. The thickened glass bottom thunked against the uncarpeted floor and Tig groaned again, one hand scrubbing up against the bloodied and bruised skin of his forehead. "Just go Chibs. I'm not fit company right now."

"You're never fit company Alex. You've a penchant for corpses and animal buggery and some of the things that come out of your mouth make devils wince." Fully rounding the door Filip knelt slowly, the leather of his jacket creaking as he let himself settle into the wall beside the older man.

"So why're you here?" The curly haired man rolled to his feet with drunken grace, his loose and half numb limbs moving with almost sinuous ease as he widened the distance between them. He grabbed another bottle of liquor from one of the open boxes. Chibs sighed and relaxed farther, his legs splaying out over the floor.

"Because something's wrong with you, brother. I can see it." His accent flared the words even as he dipped his tone softer, more personal. Tig eyed him, the swelling cresting down from his forehead to blur against the usually sharp lines of his eye sockets and cheekbones.

"You don't see shit Filip." Blinking he weaved slightly, his balance sketching out from the booze and the pills he'd washed down. "Just Psycho Tig. Tha's it."

"That's not it. Alex—" Tig hurled the liquor bottle he'd been holding into the wall, amber liquid sprayed and glass rattled to the floor.

"Get out." Ignoring the patient way the younger man watched him he stalked to the darkened window, both hands spreading against the glass. "Fuck off."

"I don't think so." Chibs heaved a breath and shoved himself off the floor. "I'm not blind." He detoured around more unpacked boxes and scattered piles of stuff that littered the floor. "Something's off between you and Clay." He kicked at a worn pair of boots, making space to stand next to the other man.

"Yeah, I forgot to get him flowers on our anniversary." Tig sneered. "He's sensitive about shit like that." He turned abruptly and eyed the other man. Chibs could see the alcohol and narcotics that hazed the brightness of his blue gaze into a muddled gray. The Scotsman watched the older man move away from the window and fumble for yet another half emptied bottle of booze..

"It weighs on you. Whatever it is. It's dragging you down, brother." His accent blurred slightly as he lit a cigarette, exhaling a lungful of smoke into the already stilted air. "You're under so far you can't see the surface. And that shit isn't a life preserver."

"Yeah." Tig spun the cap and pulled a large swallow. "Fuck of an anesthetic though." He hissed as he exhaled, the liquor burning all the way down.

"The hell with that." Chibs crossed the room and smacked the bottle out of the other man's hand. The smell of whiskey grew thicker as the bottle thunked unbroken to the already glass strewn floor. Tig's eyes widened slightly, a sardonic smile twisting his lips.

"Feel better? Because I can pick it up and give you another shot. Or I can break it myself, right over your fucking head." His eyes lit with an almost frantic gleam, the blue icing over into clear crystal.

"Try it." Chibs said, shoving both hands full into the taller man's cut and pushing him back. "C'mon Tiggy." Tig lurched backwards, his feet tangling together and almost taking him to the floor. Chibs followed, keeping the distance between them negligible as he slapped out again, one palm smacking into leather as the other tagged into Tig's jaw. "How's that anesthetic treatin' you now? Seein' double?"

"Fuck you." Tig settled his stance, cornering himself slightly as he raised his own hands. Chibs laughed at the unsteady movement and slapped Tig again, touching a double tap against the older man's temple. Taking a large step Tig tried to respond, his fist whiffing past the other man's head. The Scotsman stepped out of the way and Tig went to the floor, crashing to his hands and knees in spilled whiskey and broken glass.

"Excellent!" Planting the heel of his boot into the other man's side he knocked him flat. "D'ya want to tell me what the fuck is going on or shall we keep dancing."

"I can dance all night." Tig pulled himself up and clumsily stripped off his booze dampened cut. He threw the leather atop a pile of packing boxes and shrugged the dark button down shirt off his shoulders. Chibs moved aside once again easily avoiding the jab Tig had aimed in his direction. "C'mere." He staggered forward, throwing himself against the stockier man's chest. With a grunt Chibs gathered him in and locked both arms around him.

"You're drowning. Stop bein' a dick and let me haul your sorry ass back into the boat." His voice flared loud, his accent breaking between them as he shook the older man brusquely. Using brute force he froze Tig's movements, turning them and bracing the taller man between the wall and his chest. "Alex."

"I can't." Tig let his head roll back against the wall, most of the fight draining out of his body even as his hands tightened against Chibs's cut. His nails dug deeply into the leather, curling into a clinging weight. There were deep shadows of exhaustion vying against the bruises that crested his cheekbones and his eyes were swollen and red. "You should'na come here."

"But I did." Chibs said. "It's eating you up Tigger. Talk to me." He fixed dark eyes against the other man's weary blues.

"We can't do this." Tig's voice was lulled slightly, crested in fatigue and hopelessness. Chibs pulled one hand up and lightly traced the line of half healed scrapes that marred one temple.

"We're not doing anything." He let his palm settle on the sweated fabric of the other man's tee shirt. Tig laughed, his hands tightening even farther into Chibs's cut as he pulled him tighter into his chest.

"Feels like somethin'." He paused slightly, tongue tracing his thin lips when he felt the other man's hardness against his thigh. "Yep, definitely somethin'." Shifting his stance he pressed the two of them closer together, sliding his body against the younger man's. "Question is, what we gonna do about it?"

Chibs's eyes warmed slightly, the deep brown of them carameling as he cocked his head to one side and shrugged. The thick leather of his cut shifted noisily against his shoulders.

"That's up to you, Brother." His accent rolled the words loosely. Tig's smile widened and he tipped his head back with a roll of his eyes.

"Yeah?" Finally releasing his grip against worn leather he reached both hands up, his thin fingers spreading as he tucked graying hair behind the other man's ears. Chibs's flinched a little when thumbs traced against the scars that lined his cheeks. "I ain't no nice guy."

"I know." Chibs said. "Neither of us are." This time Tig laughed, a sardonic sound that ran chills against the sweat that had started to form on the other man's chest and stomach.

"I got blood on my hands, it won't ever wash off." Desperation had leaked back into Tig's voice. "I'm damned." His blue eyes were eerie, the light from the window glinting against the shrunken pupils.

"We all are." Chibs leaning into the hold Tig still had against his skull, forcing the other man into a quick kiss. His teeth grated against Tig's lower lip as he pulled back. The blue eyes man watched him closely, tongue playing against his swollen lip.

"Yeah." But no agreement actually toned the word as he stared almost blankly at the Scotsman. "Men of Mayhem." He blinked slowly, something in his eyes changing as his attention snapped back. "Let's fuck."

"Aye."


End file.
